


From Russia With Love

by writing_and_worrying



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, Enemies to Friends, Espionage, Found Family, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Pain, Spies & Secret Agents, but also some jokes :), can you tell im gay yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25319476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_and_worrying/pseuds/writing_and_worrying
Summary: Minx waits in the basement of a club in London. She waits for someone to arrive. She waits for her enemy.Schlatt enters a club in London. He walks through the door. He sits at the table.A tale of two spies, from enemies to- well, they wouldn't say friends.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 43





	1. Disclaimer!

**Author's Note:**

> Making another au? me? it's more likely than you'd think! First chapter is just disclaimers and stuff, so enjoy and please read!!

Hello everyone! Before we get into the content, I'd like to do a little disclaimer for you all, so don't skip it!!

1\. This work is all about spies and espionage and things like that! I've never seen a spy film though so uh bear with me on that. Due to the nature of the au, I should say now that there's a lot of angst, pain, and violence. If you are triggered by that sort of thing, I recommend giving this one a miss! I will try to put trigger warnings at the start of chapters in the notes, and in the tags, but I can't promise I will catch everything. Please let me know if you are unsure and I will elaborate further on what is in each chapter!

2\. I would never ever want the people in this fic to experience these events in real life! This is a work of complete fiction. If anyone feels like I'm going too far with anything that happens in this fic, tell me and I will do my best to correct it. It might get really messed up in some places. So again, be prepared.

3\. This is NOT a shipping fic. I don't like shipping real people! Schlatt and Minx are simply chaotic frienemies in this fic xoxo

4\. There will be swearing, guns, blood and gore, some messed up stuff, spy shit, mentions of suicide/implied suicide (but no actual 'on-screen' depictions of it, and it's not actually?? real?? I'll put a huge warning in for that chapter dw), hospitals probably, and bad writing.

5\. Please please please drop a comment if you have something to say! They always motivate me to work faster on releasing new chapters... and bear with me because updates may be slow.

6\. Thanks to @/smp-boundaries on Tumblr, I now have a good idea of what I should and shouldn't include in this fic, so heres a list of things I am going to be doing/not doing to ensure no one is made uncomfortable through my works. If I accidentally cross any hard-line boundaries, please let me know so I can fix that!

Anyway, that is all for now! Enjoy the fic :)


	2. All's Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes hello I am very excited about sharing this au and I am. Going feral over it a little bit. So I really hope you enjoy this thing :D
> 
> WARNINGS for this chapter: broken bones, description of pain

The first time they met was in a dusty basement. The club let them use it, so long as no one died, so it seemed like the perfect venue. It was located down an obscure alley in East London, and probably had a rat problem, but neither of these facts bothered the two spies. There were far worse conditions they could have met under. 

Minx sat at a lone table in the centre of the basement. The room vibrated a little from every thud of bass from the speakers upstairs, making the drink she sipped from shake, almost spilling its contents over her nice new suit. 

It would be more of a shame to lose the alcohol than the outfit.

She thought her new associate would be more punctual than this, if she were to be honest. They were ten minutes late, judging by the time on her watch, which she knew to be accurate to the second. A little pool of anxiety welled in her stomach as she thought about what her boss might say. She’d begged him to let her meet with the mysterious man, promised that it’d be worthwhile—that she could get information from him without him even realising. It had taken weeks for her to convince her superiors to allow the meeting. 

If it was all for nothing, she’d be devastated. Her first time working on a truly important case, and she’s led straight to a dead end? How pitiful would she look then? 

Bitter liquid stung her mouth as she drank more of it down, but she didn’t care at this point. God, this better be worth it.

Just as she was about to up and leave, the basement door creaked open. She snapped her head towards the sound, seeing a silhouetted figure in the doorway. He was taller than she’d expected, head almost touching the top of the doorframe. Without a word, the door closed behind him, and he walked towards the table.

His movements were slow—calculated. Minx blinked a few times, trying to see him more clearly through the low lighting. The distinct smell of cigars hit her like a train and she scrunched up her nose, feeling awfully unprofessional as she did so. His boots clicked against the floor, steel hitting stone in heavy treads. The taste of alcohol lingered in her throat when she inhaled, heart beating a little faster in her chest as the man got closer. 

He stopped in front of the chair she left for him, opposite her own. In her suit, she felt overdressed, as he wore a simple dark hoodie and jeans.  _ What kind of spy wears a baseball cap? _

“So…” she said, voice wavering slightly, “you’re Agent J?” Spikes of adrenaline rushed through her, the buzz of her first actual mission keeping her alert. The man—Agent J—nodded, before pulling out his chair. The legs scraped across the ground, causing Minx to flinch at the noise, but J stayed stoic, eyes cold as he sat opposite her.

Minx tried to keep her tone level as she spoke. “I’m surprised your boss let you do this. I mean—meeting with the enemy? We didn’t think it could happen.” J tensed his shoulders slightly, looking away.

“Get on with it,” he said. His voice was different from how she imagined, a strong but unplaceable American accent corrupted with a Russian overtone, a slight pitch deeper than she’d thought, too. The anger in his words prompted her to speak with haste, however, which gave her little time to analyse any further. 

She pulled a pad of paper from her top pocket and tapped a pen against it. “Right. Well. You tell me something about your, uh, organisation—I tell you something about ours in return. The aim is simple: we either decipher each other’s clues well enough to get ahead, and report what we’ve learnt back to our respective bosses, or we stay equal in our objectives… We can stop whenever you want.” The last part wasn’t strictly part of her instructions, but she hoped it would make her counterpart feel more comfortable. Maybe even enough to let his guard down, spill something too important, something he isn’t supposed to say.

He nodded once. “I understand.” Attempting to meet his eyes, Minx pressed her pen to the first line in her notepad. With shaking hands, she took a deep breath, and prepared herself for the coming interrogation—both from J and her boss.

“Okay… I’ll start.”

\----------------------------------------

  
He stilled, breath in his throat as he aimed the gun. The cool metal stung his fingers, sitting in his hand and taunting him while The Boss watched with apathetic eyes. He counted in his head, as instructed,  _ раз, два, три _ . And with a sharp inhale, he pulled the trigger. 

BANG. 

Muscles relaxed, and his heart slowed. A familiar ringing surrounded him, but he knew it wouldn’t take long to dissipate (though it would come back whenever he next had a moment of silence. This was a part of the job). He looked up at the target, a clean bullet hole right through the centre.  _ Finally _ . 

Turning to The Boss with a slight smile, he felt like he'd achieved something for once. It had taken weeks to perfect it, and he’d excitedly asked The Boss to observe his progress. His hands shook and his mind buzzed. But at least he’d done well, right? 

But where he'd expected The Boss' expression to show pride, there was the opposite.

Schlatt's heart dropped, and so did the gun, onto the table next to him. The Boss glared at him, and stepped forward in long, dangerous strides. The smell of sulfur filled the air. He flinched as a rough hand grabbed at his shirt collar, pulling him forward with no care for his already bruised limbs. 

The Boss stared him dead in the eyes. "You say you improve? You call this improvement?" His cruel voice rang out across the shooting hall. Before Schlatt could respond, he was thrown to the ground violently and a heavy boot pressed itself against his chest. The metal and rubber held him down, not that he'd dare to resist. He gasped, already feeling where his spine would bruise in the morning. 

"You are weak!" The Boss applied more pressure to his chest, causing him to groan in pain. The weight of the man pushed against him, harsh and unrelenting. He coughed when the boot pushed too hard on one side, and pain shot through his body, the slightest movement causing the boot to shift further against his nerves. 

He felt like his ribs would give out from above him, crack and break into his chest. Tears welled in his eyes. It could kill him, and The Boss knew that. This could be it. A pathetic noise escaped him as the man laughed. 

More pressure. "You think because you shoot well you are better? No! You are a coward! Typc!” He screamed the words and Schlatt cried out, so close to breaking. The Boss didn't press harder, but kept his boot where it was, crushing him beneath it like an insect. 

"Пожалуйста, остановись!" he choked out, tears in his eyes. The Boss remained silent, but stared down at him with disgust in his eyes. It was then Schlatt realised he was  _ nothing _ to this man. Just another cog in a machine of death. A replaceable, faceless figure. Part of a mission so much greater than himself. 

The Boss pressed harder, and something—something  _ cracked _ —and the world went black.

…

Schlatt gasped awake in his bunk, hair sticking to his forehead. He shivered, hugging himself with freezing arms as he tried to process his dream. 

He’d never had dreams like that before, manifesting as memories. He guessed it had something to do with his recent mission—with Agent M—and everything that came with it. A noise of anger and frustration escaped him, every word he let slip into Agent M’s grasp echoing in his head. If he were to meet her again, he’d have to be more careful. Everything could’ve been lost.

That isn’t to say she didn’t share her piece, of course. What she’d given him would keep his ‘team’ busy for weeks. But he couldn’t help feeling like she still had the upper hand over him. Something didn’t sit right about her.

“Блядь,” he cursed under his breath. He’d distracted himself with a tangent. He tried to recount his dream, his memory, but the details had already fallen away. There wasn’t any use trying to force the thoughts back, it would cause him unnecessary grief. Though he wondered if the new style of dreams would continue.

He hoped not. Once was enough.

Miles away, his enemy awakened in a cold sweat, her mind swimming with memories even she had forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UH hope you enjoyed that! If you did don't forget to leave kudos and maybe a comment with some feedback!! I hope you look forward to more and have a lovely day!!!
> 
> (also. if you can actually speak Russian feel free to correct my terrible google-translated attempts)
> 
> \- xoxo Ren


	3. Something Troublesome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arranging meetings, having dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it seems i am going feral. that is okay though, because i think people are enjoying this au so far. credit for the last part goes to my friend daisy, because they wrote parts of it and came up with the idea! they are very cool :D
> 
> WARNINGS for this chapter: more bone-breaking sorry
> 
> i know the Russian is a lot in this one, so if you need me to translate anything, please let me know!

The view outside Schlatt’s window seemed to keep him occupied for hours. Just a simple thing, two trees, a few bins, a road leading nowhere, but it was enough. His room was compact, with bunk-beds, a space he parted with three other Agents, paid for by The Boss while they stayed in London. It bored him. He wasn’t built for tiny apartments and shared bathrooms. 

While his roommates worked, cracking codes and making plans, his superiors had ordered him to stay put, stay in the building until they needed his practical skills. Until they needed him to carry out a mission. And, well, he couldn’t disobey.

(Or he could, just a little, but it wasn’t his fault The Boss was so hard to contact.)

But by god, did it frustrate him! Sitting and staring out of the window, watching people and cars and birds go by without knowing him at all. He came up with stories about their lives, even writing some down—Russian for people, English for everything else. He wrote and watched until the sun hit his eyes and he had to close the heavy curtain. Something about it struck him as poetic, not that anyone cared.

His foot tapped against the carpeted floor of the apartment, causing his desk to move on the uneven surface. The notes he had taken today were as meaningless as ever, a collection of chicken-scratch words and nonsense ramblings. Though somehow it felt more worthwhile than doing nothing, better than just existing with nothing to show for it. Despite it being a waste of his energy, despite The Boss’ words in his head:  _ ‘if you sew seeds of a fruitless tree, do not expect apples to grow’. _

He reached into his pocket with his left hand. Mechanical, practised movements saw pulling out a small box of cigarettes and sliding it open with his thumb, picking one out and bringing it to his lips. In front of him was a lighter, which he grabbed and flicked twice before bringing the flame to the end of the stick. Back home, he’d have the privilege of expensive cigars, but for now, he’d have to make do. 

Inhaling, he let death fill his lungs and burn onto his tongue, and revelled in the feeling of letting it go again, smoke fogging the surrounding air. He shuddered a sigh. 

A knock at the door startled him from his state. “Войдите.” He held the cigarette between his fingers and watched it burn up. Dammit. The door opened and one of his fellow Agents (he didn’t bother to learn their names, and they returned the favour) walked in, holding a white envelope in his hand.

“Это пришло для вас, агент,” the young man said, handing him the letter. Schlatt took it, nodding to the Agent as he stepped out of the room. His heartbeat quickened when he recognised the handwriting on the envelope, spelling his name in neat cursive. 

In his belt, a small knife sat snugly next to his revolver, silver and spotless from lack of use. He fished it out and dug the blade into the corner of the envelope, ripping it open with one sharp tug. A smile sat on his face, content with the sound. A powerful scent of strawberries emitted from the letter, which he’d have to cover up later, but was a nice personal touch. 

However, he could sense the intent behind the letter. Neat writing, scented paper, all steps in a plan to get his guard down, feign politeness and friendliness. He knew Agent M wanted to take him down, to break him, make him compliant in the enemy’s tactics. It would take a lot more than some sweet smells to do that. 

He pulled the letter out of its case and unfolded it with care. Covered in the same handwriting as before, the letter’s style made him groan out loud. He had enough trouble reading typed English, let alone cursive. If they weren’t on opposite sides, he would have told her as such during their first meeting.

Nevertheless, he pressed on, reading through the note with all of his focus.

_ Agent J, _

_ Our meeting last week has proven to be of much use to myself and my colleagues, so I thank you for the compliance. Unfortunately, you didn’t reveal your entire evil plot, so I’d like to arrange a second meeting. The format would be the same, a game of turns sharing information, and the more intelligent Agent would win, which we both know would be me. _

_ I hope to hear from you again soon. _

_ Love and kisses, _

_ Your enemy, M _

Schlatt laughed, because that’s the first reaction he could convey. Then he cursed, loud and clear. Agent M was trying to piss him off, that’s for sure, but he knew the letter was genuine, baiting him into meeting with her again and spilling more secrets. 

He ran a hand through his hair. It would be idiotic to take her up on her offer. She had a clear aim against him, and she sounded cocky enough to imply that she was close to figuring out the entire damn operation. If The Boss ever found out he met with her  _ once _ , he’d be dead.

A car alarm blared outside, and he brought the cigarette to his mouth again. If only this place weren’t so boring.

Before he knew it, his pen was on a pad of paper. 

_ M, _

_ I will meet with you again, because I think you’re not as smart as you say. If you can match or beat me in our game, and prove me wrong, then at least you’ve done it fairly. I want no interference from your side, and I can guarantee none from mine.  _

_ Meet me at the enclosed address at 6pm next Wednesday. Unless someone shoots you first. _

_ Agent J _

\---------------------------------

That night, both spies had dreams. Memories, to be more accurate, for the second time since they met.

… 

Minx stood in front of her Boss with a light smile on her face. She was graduating, you could call it, and the proud look in her employer’s eyes filled her heart with satisfaction. He placed a hand on her shoulder and used the other to attach a simple black and white pin to her uniform. 

“Well done, Agent M,” he said with a nod. She mumbled out a thank you, too overwhelmed with everything to make her words clear. Clapping could be heard in the distance, muffled by the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. She grinned and walked off the stage and into the audience, sitting at a chair and turning to watch the rest of the ceremony. Dozens of individuals just like her, but she was the youngest, and that fact made her giddy. 

When she got home that evening she replaced her uniform with a warm set of pyjamas. She curled into bed and opened her laptop, scrolling through her emails and opening the book she was reading. ‘Heart of a Dog’ by  Mikhail Bulgakov. It was an interesting read, but the events of the day kept distracting her. 

Eventually, she closed the laptop and tried to sleep, falling slowly into a hopeful but nervous unconsciousness.

…

Schlatt fell to his knees with a pained grunt. His arm twisted behind his back, causing him to let go of this sparring partner and fall to the ground. In his head, he complains that two against one just isn’t fair, but experience and lack of oxygen prevent him from voicing it. He felt himself lose grip on his surroundings, about to tap out when his boss called into the room.

"Оставаться." The young spy grimaced when his shoulder began burning. The opponent’s knee on the back of his leg didn’t help, holding him down with force as hands pulled his arms back. His breathing became uneasy and painful, lungs screaming for air alongside his heartbeat getting close to breaking his chest. Sweat dampened his hair and clothes, and tears spilt onto the ground. 

His other opponent stood up, casual and relaxed as he unwrapped the bandages from his hands. He walked towards some corner of the room, disappearing out of sight after giving Schlatt a disgusted look. He understood why. Heavy footsteps drowned out his senses, causing him to hold back a sob. The Boss crouched down in front of him, a calloused hand under his chin forcing him to look up sharply. His eyes were filled with disappointment and anger, and Schlatt silently begged him to call the remaining opponent off, their grip on his arms tightening as his body twitched. 

Clad in a black suit and a slanted hat, The Boss squinted at him. 

"Weak again," he hummed, "I thought you said you were better?" Schlatt shook his head, shoulders aching and fingernails digging into his restrained arms.

"Клянусь," he struggled to say. His boss only scoffed, standing back up. Schlatt watched him nod to the opponent behind him. Fear spiked in his chest for a split second when he recognised the look on his Boss’ face. He writhed under the opponent’s grasp, desperately trying to get away.

A horrific  _ Snap! _ made his blood curdle. He let out a scream, and the body holding him down moved. He collapsed, body crumpling to the floor without grace. His teeth clenched so hard he was certain they were about to shatter, but it was better than making another sound. 

"Видеть?" His Boss had the audacity to  _ laugh. _ "Still weak." The Boss offered a hand to help Schlatt's opponent up, and left him broken on the floor. He whimpered as his body spasmed again, shocks of pain burning through the nerves in his left arm, torn muscle and shattered bone screaming louder by the second.

Grabbing a fistful of his black tank, The Boss pulled Schlatt up to a sitting position, holding him there. He winced and tried his best not to express the searing pain in his arm. The look The Boss gave him let him know he was a poor actor.

"Вы сломали мне руку," Schlatt groaned, "и назвали меня слабым?" He knew he shouldn’t talk back, but the pain had started to override his common sense.

"Sure." His boss shrugged and let go of his shirt, allowing Schlatt to fall again with his back on the concrete. "Как еще ты узнаешь?" 

He hid his face with his right arm, the movement causing more pain in his spine, not that he cared anymore. The world around him grew muffled and hazy, and his head hurt like hell, and suddenly, everything was quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo! i hope you enjoyed that little dip into the world of these dumb spies. hopefully I'm not being too vague with anything and its all nice and clear... 
> 
> if you enjoyed please drop me a comment and some kudos! it's greatly appreciated :D !!
> 
> thanks for reading and have a great day xoxo
> 
> \- ren


End file.
